Good Boy
by oflymonddreams
Summary: House and Wilson and their screwed-up, messed-up, verging-on-noncon, semi-abusive, seriously don't try this at home, relationship. House has a ... bathroom problem. Wilson's decded to help. Whether House likes it or not. Now with added diapers!
1. Solving the bathroom problem

**Good Boy**

_This could be in the same universe as "In The Closet". It's probably not going anywhere, though. _

The first time Wilson tried to help House with his ... bathroom problem, House fought back. He couldn't help it, something he tried to explain to Wilson, but he just couldn't lie still and let Wilson... do that to him. And tying House up wasn't an option, because House would need to move about, and he was too big for Wilson to move him if House was in strict bondage.

The next time, House didn't tell Wilson he was having a problem, but Wilson figured it out anyway. Instead of tying House up or beating House into submission, he collared him.

Wilson had never put a collar on House before. He slipped the smooth cool leather around House's neck, and buckled it close, sliding his fingers into the D-rings and tugging. House felt the tug and went down, his mouth opening in wonder. He had never knelt for Wilson so easily. Wilson held up a metal tag, a dog's tag not a military one, with Wilson's name and address and phone number on it. "Shall I tag you as well as collar you, House?"

House let out a small, agreeing whine. Wilson laughed at him, petting him. "If you're a good boy, now. Come on. Are you going to be a good boy?"

House had dropped his cane when he knelt. He hadn't handed it to Wilson, as their scenes usually began, surrendering his power of independent movement to Wilson, he had just dropped it. He realized this when Wilson tugged him to his feet, his hand under House's arm, and began to walk House towards the bathroom. House knew what was going to happen when they got there, he was afraid of it and he was afraid of fighting Wilson, but the light firm touch of the collar on his throat seemed to encompass his world.

Wilson stripped him. House was pushed down on to his back on the bathroom floor, and Wilson knelt down beside him, rolling up his sleeves. "You won't have to hold this first one more than five minutes, House." House watched, his mind seeming to work slowly, as Wilson filled the enema bag and hung it on a stand before kneeling down beside him and snapping on gloves. The latex felt cold against his anus, not warm, or perhaps that was the KY jelly Wilson was pushing into him. Wilson screwed an enema nozzle on to the tube, and slid it into House.

House lay still. He could see the bag deflating and feel the warm water flowing into him. Stuffed and helpless on the nozzle Wilson held inside him, he whined in desperation, shivering. Wilson's hand moved on his belly, his face fascinated. House felt a strong cramp hit him, and squirmed on the floor, pressing up against Wilson's hand.

"Hold it, House. Hold it." Wilson spoke softly, his voice fascinated. "I didn't put much in this time, you can hold it for a little bit more. I know you can. Be a good boy, now."

The awful pressure passed. House pawed at Wilson's arm. Wilson seemed to understand, and helped him up, over to the toilet, and stood holding him, his fingers enlaced in the collar's rings, letting House push his face into Wilson's belly, as House's colon let go of the water.

"Good boy," Wilson said. "That feels good, doesn't it?" He petted House, and made him get up again. This time he positioned him over the bathtub, his chest resting on the edge of the tub, head down: almost like being on hands and knees for Wilson, but with more support for his leg. He showed House the enema nozzle, even larger than the previous one, and lubricated it with KY. "This time I'm going to use two quarts."

If not for the collar, House would have fought. But he felt the warm grasp of it round his neck, as if Wilson had taken his throat in both his hands and squeezed just enough to let House know he was there. The fat nozzle slid into him coldly, not like Wilson's cock, and the warm liquid began to flow out of it, into House, slowly filling him. He opened his mouth and no words came out, only a mewl of helplessness. Wilson owned him. Wilson was filling him up and would empty him out.

House felt Wilson's hand on his swollen belly, stroking and gently prodding. He whined, feeling a cramp rolling through him. "Hold it," Wilson said softly, like a lifeline. "Hold it. Good boy."

House was crying. Not loudly: tears were just rolling out of his wide-open eyes and landing in the tub. "Good boy," Wilson crooned, petting his belly. "Hold it, good boy, just a minute more, oh you're such a good boy..."

He pulled House up and walked him the two steps to the toilet. House sobbed painlessly and let go, the water rushing out of him, filth pulled loose, Wilson holding him.

"I wonder how many quarts you can hold?" Wilson said out loud. "They say seven, for an adult male. Do you think you could hold four quarts this time, for me?"

It wasn't really a question. Wilson was just talking out loud. He positioned House over the edge of the tub again, and again the flow of warm water filled him, and filled him, and filled him. He hadn't really stopped crying, and he was squirming, afraid to move, afraid to shiver in case he had an accident and Wilson punished him for being dirty in the house, he was Wilson's good boy, he could feel his whole abdomen swollen and Wilson's hands kneading him, gently handling him, Wilson murmuring over and over again that he was a good boy, hold it, good boy.

In some interval between cramps House was allowed to sit and release this flood of liquid. He sat still, pushing and rubbing his face against Wilson's stomach, his hands helpless by his sides. Wilson got him to stand up and bend over and Wilson wiped his backside clean, and he sobbed with relief, because that meant no more fillings and emptyings, no more, not now, he was a good boy...

Wilson clipped the tag on his collar, and hooked a finger through one of the D-rings. Stumbling, House leaned on him all the way back down the hall to his bedroom. Wilson made him lie down on the bed.

"You wait there," Wilson said, and House whined softly to tell House he'd heard.

Left alone, he didn't move or want to: he was collared and tagged, he was _Wilson's_, and he was Wilson's good boy. He couldn't stop crying, but Wilson didn't seem to mind.

"God, the power of seven quarts of warm soapy water," Wilson said. "I usually have to get a cramp in my left arm from beating you to get you like this." He had stuffed KY jelly up House's ass and was positioning himself to fuck him. He was smiling, he looked happy. House whined, shifting his legs to give Wilson better acccess. Wilson grinned at him. "Good boy."

_Greg had a dog. The dog was a mutt. Once the dog had learned not to make a mess inside the house, Greg's daddy never punished the dog. Greg had to learn. Daddy had to teach him. The ice-cold enemas made Greg's belly cramp up but daddy insisted Greg had to learn how to be regular. If he messed up he had to sit in an ice-cold bath. If he really messed up he had to sleep outside. The dog would whine and paw at the door to be let out, the nights Greg slept outside. Greg never named the dog. He already knew, when you name what you love, it hurts more when you lose it._


	2. Solving the diaper problem

_I totally admit this chapter is completely inspired by the two wonderful stories **Sprinkydink** wrote for the **GregLovesJimmy** porn fest on livejournal, especially her _What A Good Boy Am I_. I just wondered how I could work that very convincing "adult baby" fetish of James Wilson's into the screwed-up messed-up verging-on-noncon world of The Closet._

**The Diaper Problem**

When Wilson took House's cane away from him and steered him into the bathroom, House thought he knew what was going to happen, and ventured a protest.

Wilson shut him up with gentle fingers across his mouth. He was already getting the enema kit out. House whimpered, but Wilson took his pants off, and his undershorts, and made him lie down on the floor bare-ass naked.

"Okay, baby," Wilson said gently. "Not a big one this time. Just a little clean-out."

There was a padded mat on the floor. House didn't remember it being there before, but it was more comfortable than lying bareass on the tiles. Wilson emptied an enema bag into his gut, and then held him, petting him and rubbing his stomach, for the ten minutes Wilson had trained him to hold this much water.

When he let him up, House leaned his face into Wilson's belly and enjoyed feeling comforted as his gut released the water. Wilson wiped his ass afterwards, and then helped House off the toilet and back on to the padded mat. House whined, wordlessly: he didn't want Wilson to give him another enema, but he didn't think of stopping him.

Wilson was fitting something round House's waist and ass. Not a harness. House peeked down. An adult diaper.

House's head jerked up and his whine became a louder, almost verbal protest. Wilson finished fastening the diaper, and put his arms round House.

"It's okay, baby," Wilson said. "It's okay. Nothing to be scared of. You're going to be my baby tonight."

"No," House said. He never said that to Wilson, and they both stared at each other in shock.

Wilson recovered first. "Safeword," he said.

House swallowed. He stared at Wilson. "What... what are you going to do?"

"Take care of you," Wilson said. "Same as always." He cupped House's face with his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you, baby. I'm going to feed you and cuddle you and put you to bed. Nothing's going to hurt you all night long. Sound good?"

House shook his head. "I'm in a ... diaper."

"You're going to be my big baby for the night," Wilson said. "You won't go to the toilet. When you wet yourself, I'll clean you up and change you."

House shook his head, wordlessly. The enema had made him feel submissive and emptied, but not for this.

"Safeword, House," Wilson said patiently. "We can stop this. All you have to do is use the safeword. You remember what it is, don't you?"

House nodded.

"Say it."

House said it. Wilson nodded approval.

"Now do you want to safeword? Or let me cuddle my baby and give him his evening feed?"

House swallowed. He didn't want to do this. But he didn't want to stop Wilson from doing something he'd enjoy. And he didn't think this could be worse than going in the closet for hours, or being made to take a bigger and bigger enema. He loved the end, when Wilson cuddled him and told him he was a good boy.

"Will you spank me?"

"Only if you're bad," Wilson said seriously. "But you're not going to be a bad baby, are you?"

"No," House said. He lay back, realizing the mat he lay on was effectively an adult's changing mat.

Wilson helped him up and supported him as they walked towards the living-room. He made House lie down on the sofa, and went back to the bathroom to get the changing mat. He brought back an adult-size pacifer too, and touched it to House's lips; when House's mouth parted, Wilson popped the pacifier inside. He sat down on the sofa and helped House cuddle up against him, not quite on his lap but almost.

Usually when House got to snuggle this close to Wilson it was after Wilson had soundly spanked or paddled him. It felt strange to be cuddled on the sofa with Wilson, his bottom not hurting, his mouth not full of the taste of Wilson's semen. The pacifier was strange too, but quite nice: it was good to have something to let his tongue play with and prop his lips open. Wilson petted him and picked up the TV remote control. He put on a DVD he had obviously planned, _Fantasia_: House half-watched, absorbed in the oddness of his situation.

After a while, Wilson put the movie on pause, and petted House before he got up. "Time for your evening feed, baby."

Wilson was having one of his healthy meals, stuffed pepper with rice, but he also had a bowl with a puree in it and a spoon. "You can have a bottle later," he said, "but be a good baby and eat your vegetables." He took the pacifier out and fed House, gently, spoonful at a time. He wouldn't let House use his hands, but he was gentle about it.

The puree didn't even taste bad. House let Wilson feed him till the bowl was empty, and didn't try to use his hands to steal from Wilson's own plate: he was getting into the helplessness of being just a mouth to be fed, a belly to be filled. Then Wilson put the movie back on and sat cuddling House against him, petting his back and hair. House noticed Wilson was getting turned on. When he tried to move his mouth down to Wilson's erection, Wilson tut-tutted at him and gently redirected him to snuffle against Wilson's shoulder. "Good baby," Wilson said. "Want a treat?" He handfed House two Vicodin, and rubbed his throat, as if House were a cat, helping him to swallow.

SOmehow that added to the effect of being helpless. Wilson popped the pacifier back in and lay back, holding House, murmuring "Good baby," into his ear.

The movie came to an end. Wilson sighed and petted him again. "There. Almost bedtime, baby. You want your bottle?" He got up, and left House alone, wearing only a t-shirt and a diaper.

He left House feeling oddly bereft. They had cuddled more tonight than they usually ever did, far more considering that Wilson hadn't spanked him or paddled him, or put him in the closet. It felt weird but comforting, having Wilson feed him and give him Vicodin.

He hadn't had to use the diaper yet, and he kind of hoped he wouldn't have to.

Wilson came back holding a bottle - like a baby's feeding bottle, but larger. He sat down on the sofa and helped House up on to his lap. House was taller than Wilson, but Wilson partly propped him up against the arm of the sofa, and tucked a fleecy blanket round him from somewhere, trapping his arms and hands. He rubbed the nipple of the bottle along House's lips. "Open up, baby."

House's mouth parted and Wilson slipped the nipple inside. The taste of the warm milk wasn't pleasant, but the feel of sucking on the bottle was surprisingly good. Wilson cuddling him, his arms and hands trapped and powerless, was better than House would have expected: he sucked on the bottle, feeling Wilson chuckle in approval.

He was halfway through the bottle when he realized that if he drank more, he was going to need to pee almost right away. He tried to stop, and Wilson let him reject the bottle temporarily, but then began teasing the nipple over his lips, petting his belly. "Come on baby, finish your bottle."

At last House gave in. It was sort of nice, having Wilson tease and coax him to suck on the bottle, instead of spanking him or put him in the closet. House sucked and felt the warm liquid flowing inside him, filling his throat and belly. "Good baby," Wilson murmured.

House needed to pee. He wanted to go to the bathroom, but he didn't have his cane and Wilson wouldn't let him up. He was warm and comfy. Wilson went on rubbing his belly even after House had drunk all the milk and the bottle was set on the side table.

"Want your paci, baby?" Wilson asked, and popped it into his mouth. House was wriggling, trying hard not to pee, not wanting to move away from Wilson. He wet himself a little, feeling the warm liquid around his penis inside the the diaper, and Wilson cradled him tighter. "Good baby," Wilson murmured.

With that, House's bladder let go. House whimpered, turning his face into Wilson's shirt, peeing himself, not able to move or stop. Wilson held him closer, his arms tightening around House.

"Baby need changing?" Wilson asked. He moved House on to the mat, and took the diaper off, folding it into a neat packet. He had a box of baby wipes, and he took his time wiping House clean. He slid his finger into House's anus. "Nice and clean," he said, sounding almost fatherly. "Just hold still, baby." His fingers felt cold and greasy. He was pushing in lube. House whimpered with excitement: his dick was rising.

Wilson positioned himself on the mat, House's legs propped over his, and slid inside. He fucked House slowly, watching him squirm and whimper with an amused, affectionate expression on his face. When he came, House came moments later. Wilson used the baby wipes to clean him up.

Then he fitted House with another diaper, and walked him gently to bed. He tucked House in, and, not long afterwards, he came to bed as well, and lay cuddling House until they both fell asleep.

_*House*MD*House*MD*House*MD*House*_

"Are you going to do that often?" House asked.

Wilson gave him an odd look. House didn't usually ask.

"Like everything else," _except the closet_, they both thought, "it's for you," Wilson said easily. "It's what you need. Sometimes you need to be completely helpless and taken care of, don't you?"

House nodded. He supposed he did. But he had also learned something last night: Wilson didn't like to cuddle him unless he was helpless. Usually by the time Wilson got him that helpless, House wasn't really noticing or thinking about anything except his own needs: he was _Wilson's_ and that was all he needed to know.

But last night, though he'd been helpless and wanting, he hadn't been quite out of his mind. Wilson didn't like to cuddle and pet House, or anyone: he didn't touch people. He touched House, but only when House was _his_, completely. Wilson had liked infantilizing House, but maybe not as much as he'd hoped. Maybe he'd wanted to be able to punish House.

"Next time if you feed me any crap like in that bowl, I'll practice baby's projectile vomiting skills," House said.

Wilson got that gleam in his eye. "Then baby will get spanked," he said.

_tbc only if I get any more inspirations!_


End file.
